One word, no definition
by Wendy Crescent
Summary: OS - Cameron wondered what did she feels exactly // Hameron, no spoilers. Translation of "Un mot, aucun définition" by me. Sorry for the probably mistakes.


**One word, no definition**

Obsession : 1) Idea, picture, word who obsess, who lives in the mind tirelessly = haunt, idea.  
2) Illustration, with painful emotional states, who always monopolize the mind = mania, phobia.

Yes, she was wondering why there were two same definition.  
No, the definition she wants was not in a common dictionary.

Passion : 1) Emotional state and intellectual stronger enough to dominate the mind.  
2) Intense love.  
3) Inclination towards an object which it loves strongly.  
4) Intense affectivity, which damages the verdicts.  
5) Passion of an artist towards his work.  
6) The passion, hurt and torment of the Christ.  
7) Passion fruit.

Yes, she though it was too much for one word.  
No, even all of the definition didn't make the definition of this world concrete and blurring.

Fervor : Ardor strong and enthusiastic = zeal. _Love fervor_.

Yes, she didn't understand this world.  
No, she didn't search "love".

Love : 1) Feeling which make someone love (someone else) = affection, attachment, tenderness.  
2) Inclination towards someone, often with a passional caracter, based on the sexual instinct = passion.  
3) Someone loved.  
4) Mythological personification of love.  
5) Intense attachment toward someone.  
6) Great taste for something which makes pleasure = passion.

Yes, it was a vicious circle beginning at "passion" and ending at "passion" too.  
No, she didn't want to play at this game, which wants her to make a lot of concentrate and curiosity.

Nevertheless, with all of this words followed by a lot of definitions, she didn't understand. Understand what ? What she felt since years. "Since years", not "since now", she didn't see the difference. She tortured herself again and again without find out one answer.

"_What I feel for __him__ ?_"

Obsession ? She didn't obsessed by an picture, an idea or whatever it writed, but by an human. And this human didn't come and go in her mind, it was matter than it.

Passion ? The "intense love" didn't seem like this complicated feelings.

Fervor ? Not at all.

Love ? Idea was not strong enough, to real express what she wanted to express.

Express. Let it out. She really thought she'll never can do that. Not in a simple "I like him". She wanted to use the exactly words, with the exactly definition. Not defintions which wanted precise but doesn't give any answer.

She didn't imagine her in front of him and say : " Hullo ! Guess what ! You obsess me, I'm really passioned by you, my fervor turns in an intense love !". No, she couldn't. Never.

Did she can express her feelings, a day or another ?

Simple words can explain it. Sentence couldn't, too. Tirade weren't next to this. Even a fiction was not enough. Too away from her feelings. Feelings contradictory, characteristics of madness, can make everyone the board of hysteria, but so strong that she couldn't put them off.

She couldn't, and she didn't want to. A so uncommon feeling deserved to be kept as well in a little jar, like... her head. Even if in this position, the "jar" could explode with so much things in it.

So much things which were piling, and she couldn't put in her head another thing. She thought just about him. She couldn't be focused on a cas, on stitches, on someone who's the agony, on... herself. She couldn't enjoy life, not because she didn't have the time to, but because she spent all of her time to him.

Even after "some years" with her totally search on this matter – no teached at school – she couldn't find out. Poor result.

She was wondering if the problem didn't come from her feelings, but from herself. But she couldn't know that. Poor result.

The time she was spending to ask this question was the same time she was wondering where's the problem. He had a problem. Maybe she had too, to work as much with him. It was no wrong to say she was inbearable with her friends, but not with him. Weird, very weird, but poor result.

She could just mope in her bed, with one compagny – her dictionary. A dictionary she didn't like because it couldn't help her. Just tormented her again and again. It was waying at her "You know nothing, you'll never know". She didn't handle the situation, didn't deal with it, and she was afraid. Afraid to be like that. She was going to be him. No, she didn't. She didn't want to be like him. Poor result.

Every second, she forgot the main topic – what did she feel ?

She wanted to say and show that, but how to do ?

When she saw him, she didn't see a damaged people like he said. She saw him, his humor, his sarcasm, his genius, his fears, his desires... she loved him for what he was, but "loved" didn't was the good word... Nothing was the good word. Except for the eyes obsessive, passionate, amorous, full of fervors...

She was wright – nothing could explain it. But her eyes could explain all of the things without say anything. But how she could hang on the reality, didn't make false hopes, when his eyes gave her everything she wanted to hear ? She didn't invent. Their eyes didn't invent.

She was obsessed passionately by her love fervor towards Gregory House.


End file.
